by Sosie Frost
Lachlan didn’t seem them haul me away.
And I’d be forever grateful for that.
But this wasn’t over. No way.
I couldn’t let them win now, not when Lachlan’s position was in such jeopardy.
There had to be a way for me to still protect everyone, including the man I loved.
The shame and frustration and rage twisted inside me. I made it home, but I couldn’t get any farther than the bathroom. The morning sickness purged some of the betrayal from me, but I let myself cry. Just for a few minutes. Just until the cool tile soothed my fevered skin and I could devise some sort of plan to save the Rivets from themselves.
Which was super hard to do from the bathroom floor.
By early evening, I’d managed to shuffle to the kitchen for a handful of grapes. Some stayed down, but so did I. I made a little nest in the bathroom and rested in my own self-pity.
Lachlan banged on my door. I’d expected him, but I wasn’t risking the few grapes I’d managed to eat. I texted him to come inside.
It looked worse than it was. I curled up on the fuzzy bath mat, cradling my head on the waterproof pillow I kept in the tub. Grapes were everywhere, mostly smooshed between the pages of the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book I’d bought. I cradled my camera like I’d been taking some weird, avant garde pregnancy project, and I was still working to fit that other slipper on my foot. It took me half an hour to get the first one on, but damn it, I was trying.
Lachlan stared at me, arms outstretched. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“My morning sickness decided to throw a party that lasted all day.” I licked my lips. “I’m thirsty?”
He panicked, but just enough to make my life a little harder.
Lachlan leapt into the tub and grabbed the shower sprayer that had been my best investment before accidentally marrying him. He turned on the shower. Like a surprised puppy, Lachlan yelped when the cold water sprayed him right in the groin. After a confused moment, he adjusted the setting on the sprayer, aimed the water into the tub, and offered it to me like I’d sip from a water fountain.
Or we could be adults.
I pointed to the bottle of water on my sink—the one not currently flooding my bathroom like a hurricane’s storm surge.
“Oh.” Lachlan handed it to me. He turned off the shower and removed his shirt, wringing out the wetness.
I shook my head. “Okay, when I go into labor? You aren’t allowed to do anything. I’ll drive us to the hospital, and you do the stupid breathing exercises.”
Lachlan settled beside me on the floor. “Deal. I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”
“No, you will sit quietly in the corner. If I let you anywhere close to my cervix, the baby will bungee jump outta me with the umbilical cord.”
“Nah.” He snickered. “My boy is gonna surf out on the placenta.”
“You’re gross.”
He wrapped his arm over me. “You wanna tell me what happened today, Red?”
No. Not yet. “We haven’t even joked about amniotic fluid or cluster feedings or meconium yet.”
“What the hell is meconium?”
“It’s the newborn poop, some sort of tar-like black stuff that’s made of leftover uterine cells—”
“No, no, no.” Lachlan covered his ears. “We’re not talking uteruses right now.”
“Uteri.”
“Yeah. We’re talking about you and I.”
“No. Uteri. That’s the plural of uterus.”
Usually I could spin him around a couple times, show a little skin, and I’d distract him away from a topic. Not today.
He shook his head. “Put the dictionary down, Webster. You better tell me what happened at practice today.”
I hedged the question. “You got into a fight with Jack Carson.”
“Nice try. That was yesterday. Today’s crisis was all about you.”
I swallowed. Hard. “I can’t really talk about it.”
“You got fired?”
“Yeah.”
“For theft?”
God, it sounded even worse coming from him. “Is that what they’re saying?”
“No one is buying it.” Lachlan stared at me. “I know you, Elle. You’re the cutest damn hoarder I’ve ever met, but you’re not a thief.”
The truth unsettled my stomach. I prepared for the great grape purge of the afternoon. It wasn’t going to be pretty.
“I can’t…tell you,” I said.
“Imagine that.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed mean?”
“It means you’ve been lying to me for a long time.” Lachlan’s accusation should have been more of a surprise, but I didn’t have the energy or strength to refute it. “Where were you two days ago? Why were you in Atwood?”
Because I thought I was saving both of our asses. “I went for the team.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I am. Can you please let it go?”
“That’s not how this works.”
Lachlan paced a bathroom too tiny for his bulky frame, especially with the sea-shell wind chime I hung from the ceiling. He battered through it, flinching as the clink-clink-clink warned him before he lost an eye to a sand dollar.
“You’ve been lying to me every day since training camp began,” he said.
“That’s not true.”
“You’re the woman who saved me from the car.”
Did the good Samaritan get in this much trouble when he helped someone on the side of the road?
I looked away. “You remember?”
“No, but there’s only so many black women with legs to their chin and red streaks in their hair popping up at practices.” He shrugged at me. “Hand me a pipe and call me Sherlock, Red. I think I cracked the fucking case. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it…wasn’t important.”
“You saved my ass from turning into roadkill. If the roles were reversed, I’d have lorded that over you every damn day for the rest of your life. You’d owe me big. Blowjob Tuesday. Steak and potatoes Wednesday. Spanking Saturday. So why did you keep it a secret?”
“It wasn’t intentional. There’s just some things I haven’t shared with anyone.”
“I know that feeling,” Lachlan said. “Difference is, I’ve confessed everything to you. I’ve told you about Bast. About hiding him. How terrible it felt. Why I was working so goddamned hard.”
“I know.”
“I trusted you, Elle. Why won’t you trust me?”
“I do.”
“That’s a shitty way of showing it. You didn’t tell me about the baby. You won’t even say why they canned your ass today. What am I supposed to think?”
I slowly stood, hoping my stomach could tolerate the altitude change. “I’m sorry.”
“We shouldn’t have any secrets. We’re a team, Elle. Jesus, you’re pregnant with my baby.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m trying to be careful. Why I had to do all of this.”
“All of what? What’s going on?”
This was getting out-of-control. I needed air. Space. A minute to think. At some point in the afternoon I had concocted a relatively reasonable story to explain it all, but the morning sickness stole it as well as my confidence. I escaped from the bathroom, but I didn’t make it very far.
Lachlan forced me to face him again. “You saved my life, and you didn’t tell me it was you. You got fired today for a bullshit reason, and you won’t even defend yourself. Something is wrong. What is it? Why did they lie? What do have on you?”
Fuck it. I couldn’t handle the sharpness in his voice, the hurt from all the secrets and lies. Every second that passed broke my heart, but I couldn’t let it steal his away from me.
“Lachlan, they weren’t lying. I did steal something.”
His eyes narrowed, the sea-foam churning dark. Stormy. “You wouldn’t.”
“I did. I had to. I tried to
handle this myself, but I don’t think I can protect all us anymore.”
“Stop.” He cupped my cheeks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“If I tell you what happened, they’ll cut you.”
“What?”
I twisted away, searching through my desk drawer for the hidden cubby. The SD card rested on top. I showed him the card before stuffing it into my laptop.
“Coach Thompson has been working with Peter to spy on the other teams in the league. Last season, they photographed our rivals’ practices and walk-throughs so they could anticipate what to use in the game plans. They cheated.”
He stared as I scrolled through photo after photo of offenses, defenses, and formations. His face paled, and he sunk onto the couch.
“Jesus Christ. This is from last season?”
“It’s why the Rivets won the championship.”
“No.” His voice hardened. “The guys wouldn’t. Jack wouldn’t do this—”
“It wasn’t Jack. The players don’t know. Coach Thompson controlled the information. He was the one who analyzed the photos and developed a game plan to counter the other team’s installations.” I shrugged. “To the league and media, Coach Thompson looked like he had amazing instincts. They called him an offensive genius for a reason.”
“And you knew?”
“I’ve been trying to find a way to subvert it. I couldn’t let it keep happening. The team is innocent, but if anyone found out, the league would probably suspend our entire season. I had to be careful.”
“You should have come forward. No one would have blamed you.”
I took a shaky breath. “Lachlan, if I had said anything, they would have cut you.”
“Fuck me.” Lachlan sucked in a harsh breath. “How could you not tell me?”
For the same reason I didn’t tell him about the nudes or the pictures they had of the other players. I couldn’t let him get upset, not when I was already on the verge of panic.
“I wasn’t implicating you in this,” I said. “When they said they wanted me to take some pictures—”
He rocketed off the couch. “You didn’t!”
“Lachlan—”
“Fuck, that’s why you went to Atwood?”
I looked away before his disappointed, bewildered, saddened stare burned into my memory. The baby didn’t leave a lot of room for guilt in my belly, and I wasn’t about to throw up any more regrets.
I switched the SD cards. “I gave them some of the pictures today. Then they fired me.”
“Jesus.”
“But I didn’t give them all the images.” It was the last bit of hope I had. “I kept the ones that showed the bulk of the plays the Monarchs will run on Sunday.”
I ejected the card only to place it in his palm. He refused to look at it.
“Why are you giving me this?” he asked.
I lowered my gaze. “Those are the pictures of the defense. Every blitz they’ll try to run. Every formation they’ve created.”
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I want you to have it.”
“Why!”
“Because they’re going to cut you, Lachlan! You have to show them that you’ve improved. You can’t afford a bad opening season game. If you play well on Sunday, another team will pick you up. You’ll get another chance. Another home somewhere.”
Lachlan pitched the card away. His words struck me, hard.
“I don’t want another home. I want this one.”
“You don’t have a choice. You aren’t playing well.”
“What the fuck do you know about how I’m playing?”
He wouldn’t want to hear it, but I didn’t let him walk away from me. “Because I can see it. I’m there every day at practice too.”
“You have no idea what you see.”
“I know when you’re struggling.”
“You think I can’t handle it?”
“I think you need help, and you aren’t asking for it.”
“And this will help?”
I hadn’t wanted to fight. “That’s not what I’m saying…”
“You’ve given up on me.”
“Never.”
“You think I fucked up.” His words spit with an anger I didn’t recognize. Something vile and dark that would poison a man like Lachlan. “I don’t need your help. I never needed help. This is football. This is my life. This is what I was built for, the only thing I know how to do.”
“Which is why we need to fix this,” I said. “What if they cut you? What about Bast and your mom? Me and the baby?”
“Every fucking day I’m on that field, tearing myself apart, sacrificing my body. I do it all for you.” He shook his head. “And now you think the only way I can take care of my family is if I cheat.”
“No. That’s not it.” I reached for him, but he batted me away. “Listen to me. I know you will be an amazing player, but you can’t see past your pride. You have to ask the team for help.”
“I can’t have this conversation now. Not with you.”
He raged, inside and out. His steps thundered to the door. My heart went with him.
I couldn’t let him go like this. Not when he was so angry.
So hurt.
“Lachlan, please, let’s talk.”
It was the last thing he wanted to do. “You know…when my entire world started crumbling down, I thought I could come to you.” He dragged his gaze to mine, but the green was muted and dark. “But that was a mistake, wasn’t it? This whole relationship. It’s nothing but a fake marriage built on secrets.”
Not to me.
“Don’t you dare…” My words broke. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through.”
“You’re right. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“God, Lachlan, if you had any idea what I felt for you, you wouldn’t be looking at me that way.”
He shook his head. “What’s it matter? You don’t have any confidence in me. You don’t think I’ll survive in the league. And maybe I won’t. But I hoped you’d be there in case I…”
“In case what? If you failed?” I said the word he was unwilling to speak. “And what if you do? What then?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He retreated to the door.
“I’m not done talking.”
“Yeah, but I know everything you’re gonna say.”
“No. You’re only hearing what you want to hear.”
“I’m hearing exactly what I need to hear. You don’t think I can cut it, fine. Then what are we doing here? Why are we even doing this?”
“Because I’m trying to help you? Because I care about you? Because I’m trying to make it easier on you?”
“I can make this a hell of a lot easier, Elle.”
Lachlan didn’t look at me. He slammed the door and left me in a dark, frustrating silence. I whispered after him, wondering just how much I’d lost in those heartbreaking seconds.
“I’m doing this because I love you.”
22
Lachlan
The door slammed behind me.
And I knew I fucked up. I was getting pretty good at it.
Three times now I’d nearly ruined my life.
The first was when Victoria and I decided we didn’t need to use a condom. I screwed up again when I let Mom adopt Sebastian instead of taking responsibility for him myself.
And tonight, like a jackass, I’d yelled at Elle. I blamed the woman I loved for my life turning to shit.
That was a rookie mistake.
Elle was right. About everything. I needed help. Hers. Jack’s. The team’s.
That was the reason she kept secrets from me. Not that she didn’t trust me, but because I was jammed too far up my own ass to think of anything but my own pride.
It had to change.
I’d made a promise to my family that I’d provide for them. I’d do everything in my power to protect that promise…but did that include lying, stealing?
Cheat
ing?
What the hell was I going to do?
I pulled into my driveway. A red Kia parked in front of my garage.
Son of a bitch. I knew who owned it. Of course she’d come to my house.
Victoria waited for me on the porch, kicked back on a patio chair.
“You’re out late,” she said.
I kept my voice low. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“You can get off my property.”
Victoria frowned, twisting a dark curl in her fingers. She handed me a manila envelope.
“I think you know what’s inside that,” she said.
“Guessing it isn’t sunshine and rainbows.”
“It’s a lawsuit—”
I ripped the envelope in half and tossed the pieces on the porch. “Drop it.”
“Not until I have my son.”
“He’s not your son.”
Victoria thought she could argue with me. “Only because you won’t let me be a part of his life.”
“You chose not to be a part of his life.”
“I was young and foolish,” she said.
Like it made any damn difference. “But now you’re older and broke.”
“I’m going to fight until I get rights to my son.”
“You want to see your son?” I was done playing. “Fine. Follow me.”
Victoria smiled like she’d won some great victory just stepping into my house. She claimed the chaise lounge in my living room. Elle’s chosen throne. I said nothing. Didn’t yell. Didn’t get mad.
I brought her the photo albums Mom had put together. The ones from when Bast was little.
“Let’s see what the kid’s been up to.” I opened the first album. “Here’s Sebastian on the day he was born. You probably never saw him in the incubator or on the oxygen. Remember? Because you told the nurses you never wanted to see the brat. You wanted the nightmare to be over.”
Victoria stiffened. “Lachlan, I had just given birth.”
“That doesn’t excuse you. Look at him.” I pointed to the picture of my premature son. “Sick and underweight, because you refused to eat towards the end of the pregnancy. You didn’t want to show.”
“I was a teenager.” Victoria slammed the album shut. “I was scared.”
